


Trust Issues

by mackwrites



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Anxious Racetrack Higgins, Gay Newsies, Italian Racetrack Higgins, M/M, Original Character(s), Spot Conlon is Bad at Feelings, sprace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26606683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mackwrites/pseuds/mackwrites
Summary: "Why don't you trust me?" he asked quietly, his voice cracking.Spot's jaw softened, taking in Race's appearance before replying. "Course I trust you," he said finally. "The rest of the world... not so much."__AKA Spot is not good at feelings and Race just wants someone to take him seriously.
Relationships: Racetrack Higgins & Jack Kelly, Spot Conlon/Racetrack Higgins
Comments: 21
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic ever I'm trying my best.

"I don't think Spot likes me," Race announced. It wasn't really something he meant to say aloud, but it was just too quiet in the lodge, and the one thing Race hated the most was silence. Luckily, there weren't that many boys back from selling yet. Next to him, Jack snickered. 

"That's putting it lightly," he said, earning a smack from Davey. 

"Yeah, you're annoying sometimes," Albert added, not looking up from the stick he was whittling down. 

Race sighed before putting on a brave face. He knew he was annoying, but it was only because he had to be. If it weren't for the loud personality he put on around his fellow newsies, he'd shut down completely. "You call it annoying," he quipped, "but I think the word you're looking for is hilarious." 

"Yeah, yeah," Jack said. "What'd ya do this time?"

"I dunno," Race said. He really didn't want to have this conversation, but he started it, so it was really on him. "He just kept giving me this look when I was there for poker night last week. And he keeps having someone tail me whenever I'm over there selling. Like he don't trust me in Brooklyn." Race put his cigar back in his mouth, half because he needed something to chew on and half so that he wouldn't be able to speak anymore. 

Romeo rolled his eyes from the corner. "Least he lets ya into Brooklyn," he drawled.

Race stifled a laugh. Romeo had been trying to sneak into Brooklyn to see a girl for some time now, and always seemed to get sent home by one of Spot's boys before he can set foot off the bridge. 

"That's true," Race conceded. "He may not like me, but he hates the rest of you." With that, Race got up and moved towards the door. "You guys are boring," he said. Really, he just wanted to get out of the house to clear his buzzing head, but they didn't need to know that. "I'll be back later." 

\---

Race ended up walking around for an hour before heading back to the lodging house. For a while, he thought about going to Brooklyn, but decided against it. He'd be there tomorrow anyway. 

The autumn air tried to rip his hat from his head as he turned around to go back the way he came. The sun was at his back, almost set, and the sky had that weird haze to it that only appears in fall when the weather is just right. 

Spot had been more distant lately, that was for sure. Race couldn't think of anything he could have done to tick off the King of Brooklyn, which made it worse. If Race didn't know what was wrong, he couldn't fix it. He couldn't change himself. Spot was going to abandon him. Race knew it was coming (it always did; they always left him after a while), he just didn't think it'd be this soon. He thought things were going okay. He sold at Sheepshead, he went to Brooklyn poker nights. For the first time in his life he had enough food in his stomach, and he was sleeping better than he had in years. Race's life was looking up, which meant it was about time for things to go south for him. 


	2. Chapter 2

Race got back to the lodging house just in time to put the littles to bed. Taking a deep breath, he prepared for the chaos that came with living with the Manhattan newsies, before stepping inside. As soon as he crossed the threshold, a siren started blaring a few streets over.

"Uh oh, Race. What'd'ya do this time?" Albert teased. Race felt his ears flush. 

"Ha ha, very funny," he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm as he leaned down to pick up one of the kids at his feet. The comment hurt, but Race didn't let it show. "I think it's bedtime," he said, addressing the room. Bedtime was one of Race's favorite times. He loved taking care of the littles, and the boys generally responded well to him. He could forget about all his problems and just take care of his kids. Behind him, he saw Jack corralling even more children to the staircase. 

"C'mon, Zee," Race addressed the newsie he had picked up. "Let's get you ta bed." The newsie in question groaned. 

"M'not tired," he said with a yawn. Race rolled his eyes. 

"Yeah and I'm richer than Pulitzer," he retorted, but there was no heat in his voice. "Daley I see you over there," he laughed. The boy in question was trying to hide behind a couch so he wouldn't have to go to bed. "You're not fooling anyone."

The rest of Race's bedtime duties went smoothly, and before he knew it, he was quietly staring at the bunk above him where Albert was snoring softly. Turning onto his stomach, Race closed his eyes, only to open them again. Sleep wasn't going to come easy tonight. Sitting up, he looked around. Everyone seemed to be in their place. It was almost peaceful, a stark contrast to just a couple hours before. 

Race sighed. It'd be a miracle if he got more than a couple hours of sleep before the morning bell. 

\---

Yup, no miracles today, Race thought as the morning bell started ringing. He stopped a moment to compose himself before leaping into action. "Up and at 'em, boys!" he yelled. Outside, the damp morning air manifested in a frigid fog that threatened to smother the city streets and all those who walked them. It was sure to rain later.

Race filed that information for later. He'd make sure all the littles remembered hats and jackets. He didn't need anyone getting sick. After grabbing his papers ("Man, this fog's so dense, it must be a Delancey!"), he tipped his cap to Albert before heading off to Brooklyn. He absently wondered who'd be in his welcome crew today, but he was too tired to really care. 

Passing a pape to one of his regulars, Race continued his lap of Sheepshead. The fog had turned into a damp mist, and it was only a matter of time before the clouds opened up. Race ignored the cold feeling in his toes and counted his papers again. Damn. He still had ten. Turning around, he called out to the Brooklyn newsie that was tailing him. "Hotshot, ya don't have to stay. S'gonna rain soon, can't have you getting sick." 

Hotshot stepped out of the shadows where she was trying to be stealthy. "How'd you know I was following you?" she complained. 

Race smiled and rolled his eyes. "Ya do it every day," he said. "Now go. You can tell Spottie I left early cuz of the rain."

Hotshot's eyebrows furrowed. "No can do, Higgins. Boss wants eyes on you, so I'se gotta stay."

Race groaned. He was really getting sick of this. "Well tell the Boss that if he has a problem with me bein' here, he can shove it. I'm sick of the babysitting." With that, Race shouldered his bag and stormed away, towards Manhattan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise things will start picking up soon. Spot will be in the next chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Race never made it back to Manhattan. He really meant to. But he couldn't shake his feelings for long enough to put on the brave face that he'd be needing when he crossed the bridge. Why did Spot keep having people follow him? If the leader didn't like Race, he could just tell him. Race spent the afternoon wandering around Brooklyn. He knew he should go home; the rain was coming down now. He just didn't have the energy to be Racetrack Higgins. That was, until he heard voices from a nearby alleyway. 

"Let go of me!" that sounded like a little kid. And a scared one at that. Race took off running towards the sound. He didn't think, he just ran. A small child needed his help.

Race arrived to find two older boys picking on a younger kid while another boy watched from the corner. Coins were scattered on the ground, and the young boy-- a newsie, Race noticed-- was crying. "Hey!" Race yelled, capturing the attention of the offenders. 

Race pulled the boys off of the kid and instructed him to run. He didn't look back to see if the kid listened, instead focusing on the two boys who had been bugging the young newsie. "Didn't anyone ever teach ya not to pick on the youngins?" Race threw a punch to emphasize his point and to give the newsie time to make an exit. He was happy to distract the boys to let the kid get away. 

His punch landed, and Race threw another one before the other boy gave him a swift kick to the knee. "Shit."

"Ya kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Nah, but I do kiss yours with it," Race rebutted, dodging a punch and kicking out. Two against one wasn't good odds, but better Race than the kid, who was long gone by now. The boy growled, and gave Race a harsh shove onto the ground. 

Race quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to avoid multiple kicks to the stomach and chest. On his way up he managed to pull one of the boys down and kick him in the face just hard enough to knock him under. Just a little longer, and Race could feel confident that he'd given the boys enough of a soaking. He threw a punch at the boy that was still standing, and started to run in the other direction.

Unfortunately, Race forgot about the third guy in the corner, and wasn't ready for the sharp blow to the side of his head. The last thing he saw before he hit the ground was a metal pipe, a red shirt, and then black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffie, I just wasn't feeling that motivated today. More to come, though!


	4. Chapter 4

The first time he woke up, Race woke with a start, immediately hitting his head on a bunk above him before crashing back down and passing out.

The second time Race awoke was a gradual affair. The first thing he was aware of was an immense pain at the front and side of his head. Groaning, he tried to sit up, only to have a hand push him back down. "Yeah, no. Not doing that again," a voice said. Race blinked rapidly, trying to get a sense of his surroundings. 

"Spo'?" Race tried to remember what had happened, but was drawing a blank. He tried again to sit up, this time going slowly. His head felt like it was going to explode. "Just kill me now," he groaned, leaning forward to put his face onto Spot's shoulder. Probably not the best move, especially considering how Spot seemed to tense under him, but Race couldn't bring himself to care. 

Not used to physical contact from the Manhattan boy, Spot floundered for a second, before patting Race on the back awkwardly. "It's not that bad," he said. "Just a mild concussion. And you wouldn't have one at all if you hadn't slam your face into the bedframe dumbass." If Spot wasn't pissed, he probably would've found it funny that Race had taken on three guys by himself and yet it was a bunkbed that gave him the concussion. 

Race lifted his head off of Spot's shoulder to look at him, confused.

Spot sniffled a laugh. The lost puppy look Race was giving him was cute, even if he'd never admit it aloud. "After you ditched Hotshot, which we'll talk about later, I get a frantic little running up to me telling me that a lanky Manhattan boy pulled 'im out of a fight with Queens. Got there just in time to see you get your ass kicked."

Ah. Race was remembering now. "Hey, two outa three ain't bad," he defended himself. "S'the little okay?"

Spot's heart melted a little at that. Race really cared about everyone, it seemed. "Jiggy? Yeah he's fine, just a bit shaken." Race nodded, filing that name away. "'Prolly wants to see you actually. You'se okay with that?" 

Race looked around, for the first time noticing that they weren't in the Brooklyn bunk room, but in Spot's private room. "Uh, yeah, that's fine," he said. He wanted to ask why he was in here, but he remembered Spot saying something about a bunkbed, and he didn't want to make things more awkward than they already were. 

Spot seemed to figure out what Race was thinking. "We moved you in here after you almost killed yourself on a bunk earlier," he explained. "Didn't realize you'd bolt up so fast first time you woke." With that, Spot gave him a small smile and disappeared, going to get the kid Race had saved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's some Spot. Next chapter you get to meet Jiggy, the Brooklyn little, and we get a little more of Race and Spot talking.


	5. Chapter 5

Race leaned his back against the wall, preparing himself for Spot to come back with the Brooklyn little. Jiggy, he reminded himself. That's what Spot had called the kid. His head hurt, but he figured that was to be expected. After all, he did just fight three guys by himself. 

He thought back to the morning, and at how he had ditched Hotshot. He felt bad, especially since Spot seemed to be insulted by it. He figured nothing would happen when Jiggy was around, but Race could anticipate a lecture from Spot. A pit in his stomach formed when he realized this might be the last time he would be allowed in Brooklyn. 

Race's thoughts got cut off, though, as Spot re-entered the room with Jiggy on his tail. Race could now get a good look at the kid. He had dark skin and big, bright brown eyes that never seemed to settle on the same place. 

"Hey," Race started, trying to welcome the kid as best he could. "Sorry if I scared ya back there." 

Apparently, that was all the kid needed to hear. As soon as Race spoke, the kid was on the bed next to him, leaving Spot alone in the doorway to watch the interaction. Race gave a laugh and wrapped an arm around Jiggy. The kid was small, around 8 or 9, Race thought. Too young, Race thought, but any age was too young in his opinion. 

"It's okay," Race said. "Those boys ain't gonna hurt us anymore. Spottie and I'll keep ya safe." He looked to Spot for confirmation. 

Spot gave a small smile and a nod, and Race smiled back. Spot tried to ignore the way his stomach did a flop as he moved to sit on a chair opposite the bed. "The guys have been taken care of and I sent Riff over to Queens to ensure we won't have another problem," he said.

Race nodded, and nudged Jiggy, who was still holding on to him tightly. "See, all taken care of."

Jiggy looked up at Race. "Thank you," he muttered timidly. 

"Oh, it's no problem," Race said. "I'm just glad I was there to help." 

Jiggy smiled at this. "It was scary," he offered. Spot's eyes widened. Jiggy almost never talked, and here he was starting a conversation with the Manhattan boy. Spot felt his heart do a flip again, and smiled softly. 

"Yeah," Race agreed with a smile. "It's okay to get scared, though. And just remember that there are people here who can help you." This he could do. He could comfort a small child. He just couldn't understand Spot. 

"But you got hurt," Jiggy tried to argue. Race shook his head, though.

"I'm fine, see?" Race knocked on his head, ignoring how much it hurt. "Good as new." 

Spot rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Jiggs, if he's fine enough to be a dumbass, he must be feelin' better," he snarked. 

"Hey!" Race said, feigning annoyance. Next to him, Jiggy giggled, so Race took that as a win. He'd known this Brooklyn kid for only a few minutes, but he already knew he'd move the world for him. He put his hand up to ruffle the kid's hair, earning himself another laugh in response, followed by a yawn.

"I think it's time for bed," Spot said. He really didn't want to send the kid, who had just started to open up. But the kid was tired, and Spot was nothing if not a good leader. Race saw what Spot was going for, and decided to give Spot a hand.

"Don't worry, Jiggs. I'll see you soon," he reassured. 

"Promise?" Jiggy asked. Race looked to Spot, not knowing where he stood with Brooklyn, before turning back to the kid. 

"Yeah," Race squeaked hesitantly. "I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know it's been a couple days. I'm still alive! Come talk to me on tumblr @ acecrack-mack.


	6. Chapter 6

Race watched as Spot led the young newsie back into the main bunkroom. There was something soft about him as he handled the littles, Race noticed, watching through a crack in the door. It was cute, he thought before he could stop himself. No. Don't get attached, he reminded himself. It'll just hurt later when they all leave. 

Before he could fall down a rabbit-hole of emotions, Race took stock of himself. His ribs and stomach hurt from where he was kicked, but it was nothing compared to the pounding in his head. At least his thoughts were coherent now. The trek back home would be rough, but doable. He should probably leave soon, though. It was already too dark to see, and he dreaded crossing the bridge. It was sure to be flooded by now, and if there was one thing Race hated, it was cold wet feet. 

Spot seemed to read his mind. "No way you're going back to 'hattan tonight." Huh. When did he get there? Race couldn't tell. "You can stay here for the night, and Hotshot will take you back to Manhattan in the morning. I don't want you out there by yourself," Spot said. With that, the shorter boy left the room, leaving Race alone with his thoughts again. It led him back to the same question that had been flitting in and out of his brain all day. Why did Spot not want him in his borough alone? Why was he being all weird? If he didn't want Race around, he could just say so. Race had been abandoned before, he could take it. It'd suck, but honestly, Race was expecting it at that point. 

Race watched Spot come back into the room with extra blankets and a pillow. "Thanks," Race said, taking them before realizing that Spot meant sleeping here. In Spot's room. He quickly shoved the blankets back into Spot's hands and started to stand. "It's not that bad out, I'll just get out of your hair now. You don't have to worry about me anymore. I won't be in the way." Race figured it'd be easier on Spot if he started the conversation. He really didn't want to go outside in the dark, but if Spot didn't want him here, he was better off leaving now than in the morning.

Spot frowned at him. "You're not in the way," he said slowly, not liking where Race was going with his statement. "Why would you say that?"

Race shrugged. "You always have people following me around, and you always act weird when I'm here. If you don't like me in Brooklyn you can just kick me out. It's okay, I'll go." Race didn't know if that last part was to convince himself or his companion. 

"Racer..." Spot started. 

"Why don't you trust me?" he asked quietly, his voice cracking. God, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut?

Spot's jaw softened, taking in Race's appearance before replying. The Manhattan boy shook with anxious energy, and barely held eye contact. "Course I trust you," he said finally. "The rest of the world... not so much."

Race stared up at the shorter boy, shaking his head. Spot noticed his companion wasn't seeming to understand. God, he was so bad at this. He sighed and knelt down so that he was eye level with the Manhattan boy. 

"People can be terrible. I just-" Spot paused, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was feeling. "If anything were to happen to you, I don't know what I'd do. I can't see you get hurt, Racer. I just can't."

Whatever Race was expecting from the King of Brooklyn, it wasn't that. "But..."

"No, Racer. I mean it. You are important to me, and if it didn't seem that way, I'm sorry. It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable." Spot interrupted.

"You're just saying that," Race said. He felt like a mental breakdown was coming, and he really didn't want to do it in front of Spot.

Spot grabbed Race's knee and shook his head. Why wasn't Race getting this? "Racer no," he said, using his commanding voice. "I care about you. More than I should. What can I do to make you see it?"

Race felt tears sliding down his face, but couldn't bring himself to care anymore. "Sorry," he said, before latching onto Spot and crying into his shoulder. Instead of tensing up, Spot just wrapped his arms around the taller boy, pulling him onto his lap. 

"It's me who should be apologizing, Racer," he said affectionately. "All this time I've just been trying to protect you, but instead I've just been pushing you away." Race didn't answer, so Spot continued to fill the silence. He knew Race well enough to know the boy didn't like the quiet, so Spot would fill the room with sound for him. "I just can't lose you. Guess I just wasn't that good at showing it."

Spot continued to whisper reassurances into Race's ear until they both fell asleep in a tangle of limbs and blankets. There'd be things to discuss in the morning, but for now, both boys slept peacefully, the sound of a gentle rain lulling the two into a dreamless slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be one more chapter, I think, to just tie things all together. If you want to talk to me/send prompts or anything, I now have a writing tumblr @ sideblog-conlon.


	7. Chapter 7

Race woke to a facefull of Spot. During the night, the two had stayed sprawled in a pile together. Race had to admit, it was one of the better sleep he'd had in a while. And his head was hurting less, so that was a plus. Race moved carefully to try to not wake the sleeping king. He knew he failed when Spot stirred. He looked up at Race with a soft smile. 

"Morning, pretty boy," he purred into Race's ear. "Hope you slept well."

Race smiled, feeling heat in his cheeks. He was beginning to think he could get used to this. Him and Spot. Wow. "The best," he said, taking a gamble and planting a kiss on Spot's forehead. Apparently, his gamble paid off, because suddenly Spot's lips were on his. Race smiled into the kiss, before breaking it. "So are we okay?" he asked. 

Spot smiled back, and it was a sight Race could get used to. "Racer, as long as I'm with you, we'll always be okay." He sat up before continuing. "You might as well just stay here today and I'll walk you back to 'hattan after selling."

Race's face lit up. "I can get behind that," he said, just as a ruckus started in the room next door. "Spottie, if I'm not mistaken, you have kids to deal with," he laughed. 

"Yeah yeah, yuck it up," Spot sassed back. "You're just glad that ya don't have to deal with your kids this mornin."

Race giggled before he could help himself. "Ya got me there," he said. "Though you might want to see what that's about, mamma Spottie." If Race was in the same headspace he was in the night before, the glare Spot sent him would have sent a shiver up his spine. But instead, Race just laughed as Spot went to deal with whatever shenanigans his charges had gotten into already. 

Looking around, Race found his vest and hat sitting on the chair at the foot of the bed, and put them on. He couldn't find his cigar, but he had a feeling he wouldn't need one today. He'd find one later if he really needed it.   
\---  
Selling with Spot was a blast. The two wandered around Sheepshead for hours, stopping to greet Race's regulars and to sell papes to whoever would buy them. They were on their way back to Manhattan when one of Spot's runners, Riff, ran up to them. "Spot, Queens is here. They want to talk."

Spot's face fell, and Race stifled a laugh. "Ain't you a hot ticket?" he teased. "Go ahead. I'll be fine here."

Spot looked guilty, but headed off with Riff to deal with the crisis, leaving Race for a couple minutes before running back. "Forgot to give you this," he said, shoving something into Race's hands before leaving again with a tip of his cap. Race flipped it around in his head. A Corona. He smiled and shoved it in his mouth, making his way to Manhattan with a skip in his step.  
\---  
Later that day, Race found himself sprawled out on the couch of the Manhattan lodgings, again, shrouded by silence. "I don't think Spot likes me," he announced. Beside him, Jack snorted, having heard about his escapade from the night before. 

"Whatever you say, Racer."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all! This is it for this fic. Let me know if you want more!


End file.
